When the World Changed
by TheLateNightStoryteller
Summary: A look at what FItz and Simmons were doing during the Battle of New York
1. Chapter 1

**May 4, 2012**

**Classified Sci-Ops Research Facility, North-Eastern USA**

"That's the third time today," Fitz whispered anxiously, keeping his voice low so only Simmons could hear him. "Why is everyone receiving top secret phone calls all of a sudden? And why haven't we received any?" If something was happening, if people were being recruited to help, why weren't they? He and Simmons were good at what they did, better than good, they were exceptional.

"Try it again please," she requested, ignoring his questions the same way she'd been ignoring the hustle and bustle of the past few days. The higher-ups were tense, more rigid than usual, their hushed conversations quieter and stopping sooner when they saw the lower level agents approach. Something was happening, but Simmons was confident they'd be told what they needed to know when they needed to know it. Fitz wasn't so patient, much to her dismay.

He sighed and loaded the cartridge she'd filled for him back into the grappling gun. She wanted him to focus, he could focus, no problem. Though it wouldn't have killed her to show an ounce more curiosity, he knew she wanted answers the same way he did, she just wasn't willing to be snoopy to get them. That could mean breaking a rule, which he was sure would evoke a mini mid-life crisis (or in her case more like quarter-life crisis) in his friend, should it ever happen.

They'd been working on a new grappling gun model which could support, in theory, up to 3 tons. The rope was made from a light, incredibly strong compound designed after spider silk, which was holding remarkably well. It was the sticky substance, Simmons had named super-super glue, they were still fiddling with. Super-super glue could only hold up to two tons so far but Fitz had a good feeling about the new formula.

He entered the testing chamber and fired the cartridge towards the bullseye ninety feet up. The capsule landed and discharged the super-super glue close to the center of the target, his aim was pretty good, for someone who'd never had a day of training as a field agent. That and the gadget had a guidance system which made it easier to land on the mark.

He attached the other end to the force generator, it would slowly raise itself to 3 tons, and was momentarily distracted by another agent being escorted out on the other side of the glass, this time by three armed men.

What the hell was happening?

"Fitz let go!" Simmons exclaimed, alarmed.

He let out a yelp and yanked his arm back, realizing he hadn't let go of the rope after he'd turned on the force generator. That could have easily broken some bones, or taken his arm off.

She was shaking her head at him, eyes wide and disapproving as he exited the chamber.

"You need to stop worrying about other agents and focus on your work," she scolded, seeming slightly ruffled.

"Oh c'mon Simmons," he groaned. "I know you're just as curious as I am, admit it."

"Not curious enough to have my arm torn off," she muttered, eyes on the top of the chamber through the plexiglass windows.

Fitz realized he'd given her a scare and moved over allowing their shoulders to touch momentarily. "Sorry," he told her.

She didn't look at him but she smiled, accepting his apology. "I am a bit inquisitive myself about what has everyone dashing around," she admitted. "And why hasn't anyone called us to work on it yet?"

"I know!" He agreed enthusiastically. "We're some of the top scientists here."

"Well..." she began modestly.

"We are," he insisted and she gave him another sideways smile.

"2 tons, 800 kilograms," she announced brightly.

"And still holding," he finished triumphantly. Even if it gave out now they'd made significant progress.

"900," she declared.

"955," he counted.

"3 tons," they cheered.

Simmons remotely stopped the force generator's progress then reached out her hand for a high five which he gave spiritedly.

The clap of their hands, however, was interrupted by the building's alarm system. Lights flashed, blue, blue, green. Blue, blue, green and Simmons and Fitz exchanged an frightened glance.

They'd never had that one go off before, never thought they would. Blue, blue, green meant a global emergency, it meant all hands on deck, it meant the apocalypse was approaching. Fitz had added the last one in his head, it wasn't in the manual, but he was certain no one would disagree with him on it. It was funny, he'd always pegged 2026 as the year the world would end, not 2012, however people interpreted the ending of the Mayan calendar.

"Report to briefing room 78," the announcements blared insistently over and over along with the lights. "Report to briefing room 78. All personnel, immediately."

They scrambled to shut down the testing chamber and hurried into the hallway to find a river of SHIELD scientists in white lab coats, speckled with armed agents in black combat uniforms, which they soon became part of.

The alarm was still blaring, disturbingly loud so it felt as if it were coming from inside his head rather than entering his ears from the outside. Fitz was on edge, jittery and he almost jumped when Simmons reached out for his hand except that hers was so familiar he knew whose it was instantly and settled down. Her fingers were cool on his warm skin and the firm grip they had on him was comforting. He held on tightly, not wanting to lose her in the chaos as they were swept away towards briefing room 78.

/-/-/

* * *

I dunno if there is really such thing as a force generator, it's just based off of things I've seen on Mythbusters and the Discovery channel.

This will be multi-chaptered, there is more :P

I decided to do a fic about what happened to FitzSimmons during the battle of New York because they were SHIELD agents at the time and I can picture SHIELD freaking out while it is happening and running around and besides they don't talk about the years they spent at Sci-Ops much in the show so I thought it would be a fun time to explore.

2026 is the year that the world 'ended' in Fringe in the episode 'The Day We Died.' I will likely leave a reference to the science fiction series Fringe in every chapter of this story.


	2. Chapter 2

"This is only a small portion of the destruction which has been unleashed," agent Brink told them as footage of monstrous creatures with worryingly advanced technology wreaking havoc on New York City was displayed on the wall-sized monitor behind her.

Simmons couldn't believe what was happening, couldn't believe the barriers being broken, the neat, well ordered balance between the problems SHIELD dealt with and the rest of the world shattered in only a few minutes. A door had been open and the death and destruction they worked so hard every day to stop had been unleashed upon the innocents of their world.

Someone on the video was screaming and Simmons dropped her gaze to the floor, breathing quickly but trying not to look as frightened as she was. This was bad, those things could wipe out everyone, not just New York, but the everywhere and the portal showed no signs of closing, the alien army no signs of being exhausted.

Fitz still held on firmly to her hand and as agent Brink explained what was happening he shuffled closer to her so that their arms were pressed together and she leaned into him, feeling better. She glanced quickly at his face and saw that he was afraid too (of course he was, who wouldn't be?) but it didn't take away any bit of the comfort his presence provided. She couldn't call her mum and dad, no one in the facility was allowed to contact anyone outside, but she still had family with her, she had Fitz.

'That's one of the reasons you need people who care about you in your life,' her father had once told her, `to have someone to talk to when you're scared.'

Fitz wasn't talking, not with words, but they didn't always need those to communicate.

"We are not alone in this," agent Brink informed them and the footage changed to a mixed group of fighters battling the alien soldiers. Simmons recognized Iron Man, agents Romanova and Barton (the last two being other SHIELD agents) along with Captain America (SHIELD again), back from the dead. "A team of highly gifted individuals is defending the city but, we need to do our part."

Simmons saw Fitz nodding out of the corner of her eye. She knew he looked up to Iron Man, Tony Stark, especially and the presence of the powerful group was reassuring to both of them. They gave them hope.

"We're receiving samples from the ongoing battle as we speak," agent Brink announced. "We're the closest Sci-Ops facility to New York," she paused as the room of people took that in, filling the air with anxious whispers. It was crowded, packed from one wall to the other and it wasn't a small area. Even though agent Brink was elevated by the podium, Simmons had to stand on tip-toe to see her. She suspected Fitz was fairing better than she was, having an advantage in height, though he too was stretching his neck for a view. "That means we'll be the first to obtain samples and we need to be the first to provide information."

"It also means we'll be the first to be attacked once they're done with New York," someone muttered behind them.

"They're not leaving New York," Simmons said quietly to herself, faking confidence.

"No, because we're going to stop them," Fitz agreed in a whisper, playing along.

She smiled nervously. Even with a team of super-heroes that was an enormous army to fight, an enormous, never-ending army with advanced alien technology.

"I don't think I need to remind you what's at stake," agent Brink was finishing. "I'm going to send all of you back to work now, an assignment will be sent to your SHIELD phones via a scrambled signal. You will follow your assignment, do your work, get answers and help us stop this."

With that she ended her briefing and the room chorused with the buzzing of hundreds of phones.

Simmons released Fitz's hand to slide hers out of her pocket an he did the same beside her.

"Lab-" they began.

"023" "546" they finished and their eyes met, alarmed. Neither of them wanted to be separated, they wouldn't even be on the same floor. She'd be in the basement, practically a stronghold, while Fitz was on the fifth floor with all those glass windows, vulnerable. She didn't like it, not one bit.

People started moving, springing to work, and a woman squeezed her way between them and then someone else did, and someone else, until they were being swept away from each other in the crowd.

"Wait, no, excuse me," she tried to make her way back to him but she couldn't and he was getting further away, flowing with the crowd towards the north door while she was shuffled to the east one. Her chest tightened, she didn't want to leave him like this during a disaster, without even saying goodbye or good luck.

Fortunately (for once) Fitz wasn't as polite as she was and he was making better progress swimming towards her through the crowd. She had been pushed out the door when he caught up with her, clearly upset.

"This is bloody ridiculous," he growled. "We work better together, we're a team. Who designed this plan?"

She took his hand, attaching herself to him so they wouldn't be pulled appart again, before she answered.

"We need to help stop this," she reminded him determinedly. "Even if it means-"

"But Simmons they've put you in the basement," he objected worriedly. "It's a dead end down there, no way out, if we were attacked..." he stopped, eyes bright and staring into her.

She shuddered because she hadn't thought of that. It was becoming clear that, if they were attacked, nowhere in the building would be safe.

"We're going to stop them," she repeated his earlier words. "All of us, SHIELD, that team in New York, the police and firefighters there. We'll be OK."

The pair was coming up on the lifts, they were going to need to go in different directions soon.

As they waited in line (the lifts could only hold twenty people at once) she turned to him and embraced him tightly, letting them draw comfort from each other one more time before they were seperated. He returned it, arms wraping firmly around her torso, giving her a quick squeeze before they moved apart.

"See you soon," he murmured, staring miserably at her.

"See you soon," she answered, promising herself she would.

Then he boarded the lift going up and she stepped onto the one going down and they were carried off in different directions.

On the way to the lab she passed Sam and Jack, old friends from the Academy. Simmons and Fitz hadn't always been stationed with them but they'd kept in touch and she was fond of the specialist-engineer duo, as was Fitz.

"Hey, Simmons," Jack greeted, his usual cheerfulness darkened by the destruction and death only a few hundred kilometers away.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, eyeing the engineer's bullet-proof vest wearily.

"Sam and I have been assigned to New York," he told her somberly, and it was strange to see him so was usually such a clown, grinning excitedly about the next prank he and his best friend were planning, bursting to tell her and Fitz about it.

Her concern must have shown because they smiled reassuringly at her.

"I'll take care of him," they vowed in unison, pointing their thumbs at each other before grinning, amused.

Someone nearly ran into her and she shuffled back to avoid them, accidentally placing herself in front of a wall of people walking forward.

"Be careful," Simmons called, because she was once again caught in the swarm of agents buzzing to work.

"You too!" Sam called back before she lost sight of them.

At least they were together. They were an exceptional team, like her and Fitz, one important difference being that Sam was a specialist, which meant Jack had been working in the field with him for the past several years, which was why they were leaving to help in New York.

Even though they were headed straight into the heart of the danger, she couldn't help feeling a little envious and wishing someone had thought to keep her and Fitz together because it was, in her opinion, as unpractical to keep them apart as it was unpleasant.

/-/-/

* * *

Agent Brink is named after Topher Brink from Dollhouse.

The Fringe reference in this chapter is what Simmons' dad said. It is a paraphrasing of what Peter says to Olivia in What Lies Below.

Sam and Jack are from an academy fic I wrote a long time ago called Best Team Ever (We're Going to Win) and I kinda have a soft spot for them so I brought them back.

I have seen Romanova spelled Romanoff as well, feel free to let me know if I chose the wrong spelling.


	3. Chapter 3

"You see that piece there, doesn't it look like a control panel?" Fitz inquired, tilting the top of the vehicle fragment towards the other engineer, agent Frye.

'Do your part, don't think about what's happening in New York, don't think about Simmons,' he instructed himself. 'Focus.'

"It does, but I can't read the text. Should we send it down to linguistics?" agent Frye wondered.

"As if they're going to know," he scoffed impatiently. "We don't need to read it, we can follow the wires, examine the machinery, science is a universal language."

Simmons would have know that, she wouldn't have been suggesting stupid things like 'sending it off to linguistics.' Fitz seriously doubted the writing was Greek or Korean. He wasn't a linguist but to him it seemed more complex than either of those. None of the symbols on the control panel seemed to ever repeat. That couldn't be normal.

Simmons. He hoped she was OK, not too frightened all by her lonesome.

'Focus,' he reminded himself.

"I'll just attach it to a battery, it looks like this is where it connects to the power source here," he was talking more to himself than the other engineer, who wasn't being very helpful at all. (Fitz didn't notice that that was mainly due to him brushing off his ideas). "Then we turn it on," he clicked the largest button and the device let out a faint hum, glowing pale blue between the other buttons and switches. "There we are, now we can see what it does," he announced smugly.

"Agent Fitz I'm not sure that's such a good-"

"I know, I know," he waved his hand impatiently. "The wires aren't attached to anything, but we can at least check how it sends signals."

"What if it's radioactive?" agent Frye pointed out.

"Do you really think those soldiers would be flying around on something radio-active?" He countered, frowning as he hooked the ends of the exposed wires to the decryption device, nicknamed DeeDee. It would give them a readout of the signals patterns and composition. Maybe then they could use the information to scramble them and knock a few of those grey demons out of the sky.

"We know nothing about their biology," agent Frye warned. "They could be tolerant to high levels of radiation."

'Which is why we should have Simmons in here,' he thought, missing her more and more. 'Or I should be with her.'

"Call downstairs if you're worried," he mumbled.

"They've been sending us information, nothing on radiation though," he informed him, pointing to the gigantic monitor covering the wall behind them.

Fitz swiveled around to look it over and noticed Simmons' name appeared several times beside new information. She'd made several discoveries about the alien's biology already, even figuring out a way to interfere with their natural camouflage.

'That's my girl,' he thought proudly. 'Well... not like that but...'

Focus.

The monitor fed them more than information on their colleague's progress, live streams of news coverage, explosions, havoc, destruction, played above a steadily rising casualty estimate.

"We don't have time to suit up for every single thing we do," Fitz decided, tearing his eyes from the footage. "You heard agent Brink, we need to find solutions now."

He sighed. "Alright."

With that, Fitz clicked the first button on the panel. And instantly regretted it.

A tiny, metal cylinder flipped up from in front of the part and began shooting tiny white-blue laser beams in a straight line, rocketing the control panel backwards and causing it to spin so the beams shot out in all directions around the room. The other scientists dropped to the floor and hid beneath the metal desks while Fitz, swearing and screaming loudly, scrambled forward to switch it off. A beam grazed his forearm and burned through his skin leaving a long, narrow gash which stung horribly but had at least been shallow and didn't bleed too much as he reached forward, hitting the button.

"Well, now we know what that does," agent Frye said optimistically as irritably muttering scientists reappeared from under desks, returning to work, and Fitz was grateful he didn't add an 'I told you so.' Perhaps the other agent wasn't so bad. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and winced sympathetically when he saw Fitz's arm. "Ouch, better get down to the infirmary."

"It isn't bleeding too badly," he protested but it was bleeding enough and suddenly he felt a little light headed.

"Go on, you can drop this off at linguistics on the way," he suggested, handing him the device. "I know you must be hurting but-"

"It's all hands on deck," Fitz finished, smiling understandingly at him.

Agent Frye smiled back and walked over to the first aid box to retrieve a long piece of gauze. "Wrap that up tight until you get there," he advised.

"Thanks," Fitz replied, doing just that. Simmons would have done a better job but it wasn't too bad and it made him feel better. Still, he missed his friend.

/-/-/

Simmons was examining the alien's skin tissue under a dissecting microscope, watching it change colour as she added the solution she'd prepared. She'd sorted out that they could change their skin colour by moving around the pigments in their cells using molecular motors running along microtubules. She could now stimulate several patterns in tissue samples with synthetic hormones.

It was fascinating and she would have almost been enjoying herself if she wasn't so worried about her friends Jack and Sam out in the field and about Fitz all alone upstairs.

Hopefully a good dose of her new solution would at least help them stop the terrifying soldiers from hiding through blending themselves into their surroundings. A few of the technicians were working on producing mass quantities of it as she finished cleaning up the skin sample to move on to the next task.

It wasn't so bad when she focused on her job, became a cog in the machine of steadily working agents. A million ants working together to move mountains, or at least mountains of sand (the ants not them, they were helping stop an alien invasion).

They were incredibly organized and that organization, Simmons realized, was what had seperated her and Fitz. Everyone had been divided first by speciality then by skill level and experience. Fitz and herself had different areas of specialization and so had been sent to different areas. The system wasn't entirely inflexible however, a few biologists had already been sent to other areas and they had two people from communications searching the databases for a match on the alien's species. Simmons was holding out hope something in her partner's field of expertise would make its way into the lab so Fitz could be transfered there.

She spotted a group of biologists gathered around one of the alien's arms. Metal and wiring embedded in the arm suggested a merging of biological and mechanical material and she edged over to join them, hopeful.

"We need an engineer up here," one of them, agent Yang, commented. Everyone had an ID badge clipped to their lab coats.

"Fitz," she called out instantly, then blushed, embarrassed by her lack of professionalism as several pairs of eyes shot their gaze at her like laser beams. Everyone was incredibly tense at the moment and suddenly shouting out names out of context was not helpful. "Agent Fitz would be a good choice," she explained, quieter now that she had everyone's attention. He has a lot of experience working with both mechanical and organic materials. He's in room 546."

"I'll send for him," agent Karev called, dashing to the phone and she watched him, silently urging Fitz not to be too occupied with another project to be sent down.

"Yes, uh huh," he was saying, expression darkening. "I understand, can I have the number? Thanks." He hung up, ready to redial. "He was hit with one of the weapons they were examining," he explained casually.

Simmons froze, wide eyed and sick to her stomach. "What do you mean?" she demanded rigidly.

"Oh, he's fine," the other agent assured her quickly. "He's getting patched up in the infirmary though so- uh huh," Simmons guessed whoever was on the other end had picked up. "Hello, I need agent Fitz to report to room 023, uh huh, uh huh, still bleeding?" She resisted the urge to hold out her hand for the phone (or ask him politely to please stop saying uh huh, it was beginning to tap on her nerves) and instead buzzed anxiously around him, trying to hear what the person on the othe end was saying but having little success. "Can you send him down anyway? Uh huh, thanks." He hung up. "He's on his way."

Simmons felt the stone that had caked onto her limbs crumble away in relief, he couldn't have been hurt too badly if they were still sending him down.

"And he's alright?" she insured, hovering around him for an answer.

"Yeah, the nurse said he's good to go," he rolled told her. "Apparently he was testing a control panel from one of the vehicles which no one knew had a hidden weapon," he rolled his eyes. "Engineers, they always want to press buttons before they can read what they do, can't help but power things up and take 'em for a test run."

"We are short on time," Simmons defended. Fitz could be rash sometimes, impatient, but they were all under a lot of stress and he certainly hadn't escaped unscathed from his blunder. He didn't need people rolling their eyes at him behind his back.

She must have come off confrontational because he raised his eyebrows questioningly at her before returning to work. She hadn't meant to, she'd only meant to stick up for her friend, and they needed to be working together.

"At least engineers don't come over for dinner smelling like cow liver," she kidded, attempting to alleviate some of the tension with one of Fitz's jokes but by the aghast looks the other biologists sent her she surmised the joke hadn't gone over well. "Haha, or... never mind," she mumbled.

Simmons was frightened, stressed and it felt as if there were soaked, heavy cotton balls in her stomach. She really needed a familiar face and was glad Fitz was on his way, because she already missed her rash, impatient partner.

/-/-/

* * *

The Fringe reference in this chapter is the non-repeating symbols. While trying to interpret the Observer's writing, Astrid comments that it is difficult because the symbols never repeat

The way Simmons describes the Chitauri change colour is similar to the way some animals (including octopus) change colour. I think the motor proteins can also run along microfiliments in some cases.

I made people's names appear beside things they'd found because I figured the data would be sourced in case people reading it wanted to ask questions.

Agents Yang and Karev are named for Cristina and Alex from Grey's Anatomy. If another of the group is named they will be Grey after Meredith and Lexi. Agent Frye is named after Kaylee from Firefly.


	4. Chapter 4

Simmons eyed his arm, both sympathetic and chiding but didn't comment on it as Fitz joined her and the small group of biologists.

"Hey," he greeted, unable to keep down the grin that spread across face, he was glad to see her. Their reunion changed him inside, felt like Nickel coming together with Chromium to make stainless steel, alloying so he became a stronger, better version of himself. A braver one too.

He looked her over quickly, checking up on her. She seemed worn down already, her usually neat ponytail beginning to loosen, releasing a few strands of her hair so the ones which hadn't been messily tucked behinds her ears hung at the sides of her face. She was pale and it was visible in her expression and her rigid posture that she was coiled tighter than a spring, but she was focused and sharp, he could see it in her eyes, and he was proud of her.

"Hey," she replied, allowing a quick, fond smile to show she was happy to see him too before returning her attention to the thing on the table, stonely serious, processing what was in front of her like only she could.

The thing on the table, which Simmons and the other biologists were examining intently, was an arm, detached from it's body and still oozing strangely purplish-coloured blood at one end, much to his disgust. Living things were messy, constantly changing and springing out new, sometimes revolting, surprises every so often. He much prefered his neat, clean, ordered world of metal and circuits. It smelled far better too.

Simmons lived in another world though, the icky, slimy, squishy one, and she was his partner so sometimes Fitz got his hands dirty. Besides the world was ending, potentially, it wasn't really the time to be squeamish.

"What's do you need me for?" he inquired, jumping in, ready to help as he took his place beside her.

"We need you to identify the mechanical constituents," she explained, handing him a pair of pale blue gloves.

"What the hell are these things?" he muttered, slipping his hand into them and taking in the gruesomely fused flesh. How had they managed to make metal and circuits gross?

"They're Chitauri," one of the other scientists, agent Yang he saw from the helpful ID tag, informed them grimly, glancing at the information bulletin.

The bloodthirsty demons pouring out of hell had been identified. Good, they were one step closer to sending them back.

"Oh no," Simmons breathed, her coils were tightening, he could see it on her face, the way the muscles around her jaw stiffened.

"What?" Fitz asked, trying not to let his voice squeak too much, reacting to his friend's fear.

"They've been here before," Simmons explained. "We learned about it in History of SHIELD," she frowned at him but didn't stop to scold him for not paying attention in class. It hadn't been his fault, the way professor Vaughn droned on he was lucky he hadn't failed of boredom and besides Fitz was sure the man hated him (the only reason he'd shown up to class at all was the mandatory attendance and the fact that he'd have to hear a good long lecture from Simmons if he didn't). "They were here during World War I, though, of course, no one knew about them back then."

"They sure do now," agent Yang commented darkly. "I don't see how we're going to cover this one up."

"If we survive it," agent Karev added and everyone was silent for a few seconds.

The top of Simmons' palm pressed against Fitz's beneath the desk and he rubbed little circles on it softly with his, trying to assure her that it was going to be OK. Maybe he wasn't the strongest person in the world (or even in the room) but he was clever and he was stubborn as a dandelion and he would never, never ever, let anything happen to her.

She smiled faintly and straightened her fingers so that they brushed his lightly, then took a breath, steadied, and continued.

"They wanted to exterminate us then, all of us, they called themselves the immune system of the universe," she told them quietly, though he still heard the repugnance in her voice at the alien's mission statement.

"They sound like Daleks," Fitz commented.

"Like what?" Agent Grey asked.

"It's science fiction," "They're from Doctor Who," they answered.

"I got that reference," agent Yang piped up across from them. "They're exactly like that, I remember the class on them."

"Well we'd better stop them then," agent Grey said determinedly and the others nodded in agreement.

The group set to work, Fitz co-ordinating his efforts with the small team of biologists so that they could create an idea of how the Chitauri's systems interacted with the machine pieces fused into their skin.

"It's passing information," he realized.

"From the Chitauri through the wires and into the air," Simmons continued, in awe despite her repulsion for the aliens.

"We need a piece of their tech," Fitz announced.

"Like what?" Agent Grey asked, catching up with them.

"I'll call down for something," Agent Karev offered, returning to the phone.

"Maybe ask for one of the staffs, something as whole as possible," Fitz requested.

"You want to see if stimulating the nerve cells will send a signal out to it through the wires," Simmons read his mind and they beamed at each other, forgetting for an instant, what was going on not so far away from them, forgetting that this could be end, or at least the beginning of it.

The monitor beeped, a sharp reminder, and they all turned their eyes on it, Fitz and Simmons spinning around for a view.

Displayed on the screen was the most terrifying thing any of them had seen yet. A grey, metal monster as large as an airplane carrier (the surrounding buildings made the awesome scale of it frighteningly clear) was worming its way out of the portal. Its massive body took up most of the space and was covered with shining plates like an ancient crustacean. Giant fins lined the long, thick body, grey turtle flippers arranged like the legs of an insect, paddling it through the air.

"B-but, it can't be... how is it... I don't-," agent Grey stuttered squeakily.

'How is it flying?' Fitz wondered, stunned into silence. 'It doesn't seem like it should be able to.'

He felt Simmons' warm arm against his own again, a plucked guitar string, taught and quivering. Her hand wrapped loosely around his wrist, abandoning her earlier subtlety, fingers searching without her gaze leaving the screen and he pulled up his own hand to take hers. She gripped it tightly, eyes wide and filled with horror.

There were Chitauri jumping out of the monster, using it as a living ship, filling the city with countless more soldiers while it roared from a gaping mouth large enough to swallow a bus.

"Fitz how is it flying?" She whispered shakily.

"I don't know," he admitted, quietly, only for her.

"Agent Broca, agent Wernicke," agent Yang called sharply to the pair from communications. "What are we looking at?"

"I don't... it's," agent Broca faltered.

"It isn't in the database," agent Wernicke told them. "They didn't bring those last time they were here."

Another one slithered out of the portal and someone screamed..

"Oh my God," agent Karev breathed.

"How many of those do they have?" Someone exclaimed.

"There's another one!" agent Grey told them, panicked and pointing to the monitor.

"Fitz," Simmons whispered anxiously.

They exchanged a glance. Her eyes were bright, scared, and she bit her lip, holding back her tears, trying not to show how distressed she was.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he vowed softly, surprising himself. He hadn't expected the words to come out, it happened without him thinking it over first. Any other time, he might have been embarrassed by how much they revealed the true depth of his feelings for her. Another time, he might have been afraid of how much she meant to him, how much he'd come to need her. That fear seemed silly now though, a tiny thing in comparison to what was happening. He meant what he'd said, Simmons knew he meant it and she wasn't uncomfortable or scared by it.

She was smiling at him, encouraged and trusting. They were in a bubble universe, clear walls muffling the world outside and protecting them from the storm raining chaos and panic around them, slowing time and allowing them a moment to breathe while they took courage from each other.

"I know," she answered, voice low and warm. "But that's not the only thing I'm afraid of." She glanced at the monitor, people hiding in buildings, behind cars, to avoid the deadly beams of light which had set the city aflame, and the bubble burst, letting in the wind and the noise.

Synchronously, they gave each other's hands another squeeze then let go and turned back to the arm.

"We'll need DeeDee," Fitz said briskly.

"And something to stimulate the muscles," Simmons added. "Do you have anything we can use to shock them?" She asked the rest of the team.

"We have a MENS unit we use in neuron testing sometimes," agent Yang told them, racing to retrieve it.

One of the staffs had been brought up and they placed it in a tough, plastic containment box (Fitz had insisted upon it, he'd learned from his previous mistakes) and ensured no one was in the line of fire before beginning.

They hooked the leads onto the arm, stimulating different portions of it. Finally, after several attempts, they shot a jolt into the arm near the wrist and the staff sent out a blue beam which almost seared through the containment box, warping the plastic and creating a blackened, blurry circle.

"So that's how it's activated," Fitz declared seriously.

"The signal must pass from the nerves into the wiring," Simmons added purposefully.

"Now let's figure out how to block it," Fitz finished and, side by side, the set to work puzzling it out. They were FitzSimmons once again and, even if they were facing the end of the world, they could be brave because at least they were going to face it together.

/-/-/

* * *

Agents Broca and Wernicke are named after the two parts of the brain associated with speech, because they are from communications :P.

The thing with the dandelion comes from a summer of weeding. Those things are stubborn :O.

The Fringe reference is the bubble universe. In the series there is an episode in which they hide a special observer named Michael in a bubble universe, where time passes more slowly, to keep him safe.

A MENS unit is a device used to electically stimulate nerve cells for medical purposes. I don't know much about the machine itself beyond that.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ready with the pulse?" agent Grey checked, turning to Fitz who nodded, thumb floating above the on switch of the small, black box he'd hurriedly put together.

"Ready," he answered determinedly. "Let's see if this works."

It had taken them over half an hour but the team had succeeded in identifying the frequency of the signals released by the arm and now they were testing various methods of interference.

Simmons was poised over the arm, prepared to jolt the area near the wrist with the MENS device upon Fitz's signal. The staff had been transfered to a new containment box, recently having blasted through the previous one and burning a hole in the wall which smoked grey puffs for several minutes. Luckily Fitz had suggested they keep the rest of the scientists out of its line of fire and no one had been hurt. Her friend was a quick learner.

Fitz flipped the switch and the device hummed to life, a red light blinking to indicate the inaudible pulse, set at 6955 kHz, was being released. He gave a hopeful thumbs up and Simmons responded by stimulating the nerve, her breath catching anxiously in her chest as the pressure to produce results weighed over them like an anvil.

Nothing happened. Which was exactly what they had wanted and she turned to Fitz, grinning, to find him beaming back.

"Take that you ugly devils," he cheered, casting a glare at the arm, before his triumphant smile returned.

"We should get the information out to the agents in New York," agent Karev suggested, typing their findings into the database. "There are several engineers on the ground who could get something like this up and running there."

"Like Jack," Simmons mumbled, hoping he and Sam were alright. Her gaze shot to the casualty estimate, it was divided into three categories, civilians, police and firefighters, and SHIELD agents and all three had achingly high counts. It was hard for Simmons to imagine that kind of devastation, that great a loss. She remembered the tightness in her chest, the horrible dread that had taken hold of her like a sickness, when she'd thought Fitz had been hurt or even killed and tried to multiply that pain by the numbers she was seeing. It was unimaginable.

"Jack and Sam?" Fitz asked, smile quickly drooping into a frown, concerned.

"Yeah," she told him softly before she blinked and broke eye contact. They weren't any help to anyone unless they were working and they needed to get back to it.

"What the hell do they think they're doing?" Agent Karev exclaimed, startling her, suddenly, furious.

He was staring again at the monitor and Simmons was about to urge him to return to his work, to tell him the best way to help would be to find answers, but her words never left her, they chocked back down her throat at what she saw written across the bottom of the screen.

'Nuclear missile deployed, detonation in 3 minutes, 30 seconds.'

"No," Fitz hissed, and she could feel his rage pulsing off of him in hot waves. "What are they doing?"

"They're trying to destroy the Chitauri," agent Yang realized, she looked queasy.

"No," he shot back, eyes flaring. "That's what we're doing. That's what that team in New York is doing, the police, the firefighters, their own bloody agents." He slammed his hands down on the desk and there was a loud clang which made one of the other agents jump before they returned their attention to the screen.

All those people. Thirty seconds had passed, the timer was counting down, dropping towards zero alarmingly fast and there was nothing they could do about it. Tears filled Simmons eyes and she squeaked out a tiny sob, horrified.

Fitz's head snapped up at the sound, anger cooling and allowing tears to condense in his own eyes as his expression softened. They moved towards each other, and she gripped onto his sleeves while he clutched at hers and they helplessly watched the time run out.

"I don't think SHIELD authorized that," agent Grey stated icy and quiet.

"What does it matter?" Fitz muttered grimly.

Simmons couldn't speak, couldn't put all the awful things she was feeling into words.

It did matter, not now, not for the people in the city, but it would later, for the world left behind. It would matter who launched it, eventually, but in that moment all Simmons could think about was the death it was bringing. Friends, families, people who wanted to live just as much as she did, weren't going to be allowed to and it wasn't fair. She moved closer to Fitz and he stretched his arm so that his hand rested protectively on the back of her shoulder. It was comforting, Simmons knew that they would keep each other safe, but who was going to protect everyone else?

Her question was answered when Iron Man grabbed the missile and hope lit up the room. No one spoke at first but there was collective gasp, almost a sigh of relief except that it was too early for that.

"What's he doing?" Someone wondered, breaking the silence.

"He's-," Simmons realized.

"Bringing it through the portal," Fitz finished her thought.

"Can he make it?" she breathed, watching the flying man rocket upwards.

"I don't know," Fitz answered.

Time was running out, if he didn't get through the portal before the explosion...

Simmons couldn't look anymore, she didn't want to see them die, so she pushed her face into Fitz's chest.

"I don't have the stomach for this," she whispered. "I'm sorry." She felt guilty, weak, for turning away. Fitz hadn't, none of the other scientists were hiding in their friend's shirts. (Or if they were, she couldn't see them.)

"It's OK," he answered gently, holding her against him. "An audience isn't going to speed him up."

"He's not going to make it," someone worried.

"Yes he is," Fitz mumbled, stubborn as always. "C'mon, you're so close," he urged quietly.

Simmons sniffed and turned her head to look, keeping one cheek against Fitz.

He was almost there, he could do it.

"C'mon," she whispered.

He shot through and seconds later the Chitauri died, each one collapsing, like robots that had been turned off, falling from their boards and raining to the ground.

The room sang with loud cheers. People applauded, shouted, caused a commotion, but it was all blotted out for Simmons when Fitz lifted her off her feet and spun her around and she laughed as surprised delight sweetened her relief. She hadn't expect him to do it and it was over more quickly than she would have liked, though, she told herself, she couldn't really expect him to spin her around all day, his arms would get tired.

"He did it," Fitz grinned, setting her down.

They danced around, bouncing joyously on their toes, when her feet touched the ground and their arms remained locked together even after he pulled slightly away.

"It's over," she added ecstatically, a little disoriented. Everything had happened so fast, one second the world was ending, the next it wasn't. It was like being plucked out of the air and placed safely, gently on the ground after falling towards it, out of control and fearing the bone shattering impact. Fitz's arms, still linked to hers, were a warm, familiar reminder that she hadn't been falling alone and she hadn't landed alone either. They'd had each other to hold onto, and maybe in the grand scheme of what had happened that could seem like a small thing, but for Simmons it had been vitally important. It had been crucial to her, to have Fitz at her side. She needed him, he was the lifeboat in the wreckage of a ship, the oasis in the desert, the thing you swam, trekked, ran towards because, even if it couldn't save you, it could shelter you, give you hope.

Fitz leaned towards her again, his gaze flickered down to her mouth and for a heartbeat she thought he was going to kiss her. Then it lifted so their eyes met and he bridged the remainder of the gap between them to gently tap his forehead against hers. Her shoulders relaxed but she was unsure if it was out of relief or disappointment as she tapped back, giggling because they were safe now, everyone was safe and it was going to be alright.

Agent Brink spoke to them over the PA system and the room hushed so she could be heard. "Attention everyone," she began. "As most of you have probably seen, it's over. The world is safe again thanks to the courageous actions of many and the unbelievable strength of a few. Thank you all for your hard work and dedication during this frightening time."

"And for Tony Stark," Fitz added, expression clouding for a moment with concern before he once again glanced at the monitor. Simmons mimicked him and saw the man walking away, shaky but alive, with the rest of the team. They turned back to each other and grinned again, glad he had made it out, glad all their heroes had made it. She hadn't been thinking of best case scenarios but, aside from none of this happening at all, their current situation was definitely it.

"Go home," agent Brink instructed. "Go see your families, call them, take the rest of the evening off. Tomorrow we begin cleaning up the mess today left behind."

Her family, her mum and dad. They'd be at their wits end with worry, they knew she worked for SHIELD, knew she was posted not far from New York. She needed to call them.

Fitz must have been thinking the same thing about his mum because he slowly untangled himself from her and motioned with a jerk of his head for them to leave.

"Lets go home," he said.

Simmons nodded and took his hand, not wanting to lose him in the flood of other SHIELD scientists, all anxious to do just that.

/-/-/

* * *

Just one chapter left now :). Thank you for coming along on this adventure, I hope you had fun.

The Fringe reference is the pulse set at 6955 kHz. (The machine Fitz made hums but it is not the sound of the pulse, which I believe is outside the range of human hearing). In the episode, a box releases a pulse at this frequency and kills anyone who hears it.


	6. Chapter 6

Fitz and Simmons sat together on her sofa, watching the news which, that day, only seemed to include what had happened in New York.

"A menace?" Fitz gasped, outraged at the accusation from the couple who were being interviewed. "They just saved the whole bloody world you bunch of idiots," he raged, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"And almost died trying," Simmons put in, crossing her arms, offended. "Did that woman just call Bruce Banner a giant green freak? He's a genius and he just saved all of us, how dare she."

"Held accountable for the damage? Is he joking?" Fitz exclaimed as an elected official was interviewed. "They _prevented_ the entire world from being damaged beyond repair you brainless, nitwits. Didn't anyone see the hoard of terrifying grey aliens shooting lasers beams everywhere? Surely s_omeone_ noticed the metal monster floating around, it was only about the size of an airplane carrier!"

A woman was being interviewed. She had blond hair and wore a beige jacket and she was covered in soot, she'd obviously been through an ordeal, but she was thanking them, the team of superheroes who'd fought in New York, and Fitz found himself nodding along with what she was saying.

"There's someone with a brain in their head," he commented approvingly. "That kid too, the one who was copying Bruce Banner, he was smart. He'll go far, that one, though his impression was a little off. He did this," Fitz punched the air a few times and then brought his fists to his sides and roared. "He was too organized in his strikes, I think it actually went something closer to this," he roared first and then smashed the air recklessly.

Simmons laughed at him, a wonderful blend of birdsong and wind chimes, which filled him up with affection the way the rain filled a river, swelling it until the water was too great to be contained by its banks and it overflowed. It was pouring out of him too, his love for her, and he was afraid she would see it in his eyes so he forced himself to look away, pretending to be interested in the commercial about a restaurant by the ocean which served pancakes shaped like whales. They looked delicious, blueberries for eyes and shredded apple along the bottom to make the stomach ridges, but he suddenly wasn't hungry.

It was stupid, to feel bad about something so small when the world had just been saved from war and destruction, but a fresh wave of regret had soured his appetite.

He had almost kissed Simmons. He'd set his course, prepared a plan of action for arrival, something quick, benign, barely a kiss at all, but he'd backed out at the last second like a gutless sponge.

In that moment, he almost wished he was a sponge. The simple animals had no digestive tracts, no gut (Simmons had told him about them on a trip the aquarium once) but they didn't have brains either, or any kind of nervous system, so, unlike him, they felt no shame in their gutlessness.

He should have been braver, he should have kissed her.

There was a whisper in the back of his mind, egging him on, and if he were asked to describe it using using the angel/ devil metaphor, he wasn't entirely sure which it would be.

'Yes, you should have kissed her,' it scolded. 'Back when you had an excuse, a way to explain it without making things awkward, but it's not too late.'

'Yes it is,' he argued despairingly, cursing his own cowardice.

'Kiss her now,' it suggested.

'If I kiss her now, she'll know I meant it,' he reasoned miserably.

'So? What if she wants to kiss you too?' it objected. 'Don't you want to find out? Aren't you curious what will happen?'

'Simmons isn't a lab rat,' he protested. 'She's my best friend, my home, if I lost her it really would be the end of the world. It isn't worth the risk.'

'Coward,' it taunted and he decided on devil.

"Can you stay?" Simmons asked. Her question came out soft, barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to scare away the devil in his head.

He turned away from the news, to her. She seemed anxious, embarrassed almost and he smiled, understanding.

"Yeah, of course," he answered. "Your sofa is softer than my bed."

"The mattress we chose is better for your back," Simmons reminded him, rolling her eyes.

"The mattress _you_ chose is about as stiff as a board," he teased, raising his hands up to defend himself and chuckling as she playfully launched a cushion at him.

"Thank you," she said warmly, nudging him with her elbow and smiling. "I just... I'd sleep better if I wasn't alone... and I know you have a roommate but I don't really like the idea of you walking alone outside either, it's getting dark."

"It is and if one of those Chitauri-things does come back, I'm better off with you than my roommate, he's nice enough but he isn't my partner," Fitz admitted. He spoke as if he were joking however his fear was, at least in part, legitimate. "FitzSimmons rules," he cheered raising a hand for her to high-five.

She complied, giggling at him, before her face fell and she swallowed nervously. "They won't though, they won't come back," she mumbled and Fitz wasn't sure if she was asking or stating it as a fact, but he could tell she was in need of reassurance.

"They won't come back," he assured her firmly, placing his hand over hers.

She nodded, staring down at it and her smile returned.

"I think we should put one of those frozen pizzas we picked out into the oven," Fitz suggested, getting to his feet and stretching. "And then we can play that game you keep nagging me to try."

"Blokus?" Simmons asked, raising her eyebrows. "Fitz _you_ were the one who picked it out. You picked out the pizza too actually," she added, amused.

"You want both of them though," he told her. He knew Simmons, he knew almost everything about her and she knew almost everything about him. Almost.

'You can both find out the rest,' the devil reminded him, creeping back. 'All you need to do is kiss her.'

It was beginning to remind him of a song sung to a prince and mermaid by a cartoon crab and he blocked it out. Simmons wasn't a mermaid and she wasn't going to be turned into a shriveled grey sea slug if he didn't kiss her. Nothing was going to happen if he didn't do it, but if he did he might lose her and that would turn _him_ into a shriveled grey sea slug.

"I do," she replied cheerily, oblivious to his internal struggle as she rose to stand beside him. "I'll read the rules if you put the pizza in the oven."

Pizza and board games with Simmons, that sounded like an amazing evening. Simmons made everything better, board games, pizza, building gadgets, him. How could he possibly gamble with that?

"Deal," he agreed, shooing the devil away along with any plans of kissing his friend.

/-/-/

Simmons couldn't sleep. Every crick was a Chitauri, the sound of the wind through the trees outside was one of those enormous monsters, come back to life and flying along the street, grazing the branches as it searched for people to eat and dropped off more soldiers with laser shooting staffs. They should have brought a scrambler with them.

There was a noise outside her room and she resisted the urge to check on Fitz, to make sure he was still sleeping safely on her sofa. He was probably up, sneaking into the kitchen for an extra slice of pizza, that was it, everything was fine.

Turning over onto her side, she pulled the blanket up over her head like a hood, more for comfort than for any real belief it would hide her.

Her eyes were closing when she heard Fitz cry out, everything was not fine, and she swiftly threw her covers off and grabbed the fire extinguisher she'd stored next to her bed before exploding out her door, wielding it like a weapon.

In the sitting room, something was attacking Fitz, a tall, thin shadow pushing him over, and she launched herself at it, consumed by a fiery protectiveness, only thinking that she needed to get whatever it was away from him.

"Simmons, what are you- no stop," he warned too late as she smashed her standing lamp with the fire extinguisher, the blow cracking the stand in two.

She stood over it, surprised at what she'd done, breathing in quick, shallow gasps before Fitz gently took away the fire extinguisher. There was a soft thud as he placed it on the floor and she watched his shadowy outline rise again and glide forward so he was standing, facing her.

"I ran into it," he explained apologetically. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"It's OK," she assured him quietly. "I think we're both a little... jumpy."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'll get you a new lamp-"

"I'm the one who broke it," she objected fairly, cheeks hot. She must have looked ridiculous, picking a fight with a piece of furniture.

"Saving my life," he teased and she smiled even though he couldn't see her through the darkness.

"We'll split it," she decided. He spent half his time there anyway, they could share the new lamp, the same way they'd agreed to share any goldfish either of them ever obtained.

"OK," he agreed.

She was glad he was safe, happy there hadn't really been a Chitauri in her house, trying to hurt them, but she was still scared, still didn't want to go back to her room.

"I can't sleep," she admitted.

"Me neither," Fitz whispered as he moved towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder, and slowly leaning forward.

Simmons tensed, he was doing it again, he was going to kiss her, and she wasn't sure if it was because she was tired or because she'd just had a scare, but her judgment was off, she wasn't thinking clearly and she wanted to see what would happen if he did. His aim was too high though, he probably couldn't see her properly in the darkness, the window was behind her, illuminating him and leaving the front of her a shadow, so she lifted herself onto her tiptoes and met him in the middle.

It was short and he smelled like pizza but it was nice too, leaving a lingering tingle on her lips when they left his.

"Oh... um... sorry," he fumbled, stepping back, hands raised defensively . "I didn't mean to... I was trying to get your forehead... but... it's really dark, I'm sorry Simmons... I wasn't trying to-"

"It's fine," she interrupted, a little hurt.

'Of course he wanted to kiss your forehead,' she scolded herself. 'What were you thinking?'

She'd liked it though, the kiss, and that scared her almost as much as the Chitauri (almost, they were still winning, being deadly, bloodthirsty killers and all). What the hell had she been thinking? This was Fitz, her Fitz, he was her best friend, not some stranger she could kiss just to see what would happen (if she were the sort of person who did kiss strangers), not if he might think it meant something.

She wasn't even sure if it did and that could have been catastrophic for so many reasons. He might not feel the same way about the kiss as she did, maybe he hadn't liked it, and, if he'd know she'd done it on purpose, it could have made things between them impossibly awkward. Even if, on the off chance he did enjoy it, there were rules, so many rules, forbidding any sort of relationship between them which involved kissing. They could wind up in trouble with their supervisors, they could have the violation put on their permanent records or, worst of all, they could be separated. That was unacceptable, it couldn't happen. They needed each other, today had proven that more than anything.

It was a bad, stupid (very pleasant) mistake. She needed to go to sleep, clear her head of these dangerous thoughts, but she was still too afraid. She couldn't go back to her room all alone but maybe, maybe if Fitz were with her, she could be braver.

"Can you sleep in my room?" She asked, speaking her thoughts out loud before taking the time to review them, only realizing after how it must sound.

Maybe asking him to sleep in her room wasn't the right direction to be going in after what had just happened, and she was beginning to regret the question when Fitz, once again, leaned forward, this time connecting with her forehead. This second kiss was nice too, in a different way. It wasn't passionate or insightful, it didn't cross the line between friendship and romantic love, but it was loving all the same and it made her feel safe. He also still smelled like pizza, she'd been right about him sneaking away for a midnight snack, and she was starting to like the oregano-tomatoey aroma.

"If you want me to," he replied softly before he chuckled. "It might save the rest of your furniture. Congratulations warrior Simmons, you managed to defeat the worlds deadliest lamp," he kidded and she scrunched her nose as she nudged him.

"You're welcome," she laughed. "Let's get some sleep," she invited, walking back to her room

He followed her, hesitantly, and lingered, unsure, beside the bed before she patted the space beside her.

"C'mon, I'm not going to kiss you or anything," she joked, hoping she sounded amused.

"Sorry again," he mumbled, awkwardly getting in beside her, not touching the covers as he lay his head on her extra pillow and stared at her, eyes catching the light from her window.

"Don't be," she insisted, pulling the blanket over his shoulders and adjusting it around him so that he was securely beneath it. "What do you think is going to happen?" She asked, changing the subject, wondering why she'd brought it up in the first place.

"Well first of all, we're going to have to clean up the mess," Fitz predicted. "Which actually could be fun," he added optimistically.

"We'll probably receive loads more artifacts to study," she chirped.

"They'll also need to fix the damage to the city," Fitz put in, tone darkening. "And locate the missing and..."

"And bury the dead," Simmons finished sadly. "There's a memorial tomorrow. We should go."

"Yeah," Fitz agreed softly.

Eyes hot, Simmons reached out and took his hand. Their friends, Jack and Sam, had made it home safely with only a few bruises, but so many hadn't.

"My mum says our whole town is talking about aliens now," Fitz whispered shuffling closer. "Now the whole world knows they're real, that there are other worlds."

"Do you think they're afraid," Simmons wondered, inching towards him. "The universe must seem so big now."

"It's always been big," he reminded her. "It's been filled with other people, other beings, all this time. Nothing has changed."

"The world hasn't always known about them though Fitz," she objected. "Everything's changed."

"Not everything," he answered, pulling her hand to his chest and Simmons felt the warmth of the skin above his heart through his pajama shirt. "Not you and me."

"That's because we're perfect the way we are," she told him warmly, only partially lying. There was truth in what she was telling him, they did fit perfectly together, whatever name the love they had for each other took, it was wonderful. Maybe that was why she hadn't sounded off. "We're perfect as FitzSimmons."

"And we can deal with the rest as it comes," he decided, yawning.

They released each other's hands and turned around. Simmons squirmed towards him until their backs were touching, wanting to be able to feel that he was there, and he didn't protest. Instead he pressed closer to her so his steady breaths came in waves against her ribs and lulled her to sleep like the rocking of a hammock.

They wished each other a good night and soon he was sleeping soundly.

Everything was going to be different in the morning, they would wake to a different world, with new challenges, but Simmons knew that, together, they would sail through them. FitzSimmons was a strong, sturdy ship and no storm, however monstrous, was going to sink it.

Their sails had been opened, caught in the winds of change, but with Fitz beside her, Simmons found she could allow herself to sleep calmly, no longer afraid, as they were blown across the water into the new world.

* * *

/-/-/

It's over! This is the end of the story, I hope it was fun. Thanks for reading. :)

The singing crab and the grey sea slug (and everything with it) is a reference to the Disney movie The Little Mermaid. In the movie Sebastian the crab sings to the Prince to kiss Ariel because if he doesn't she'll be turned into grey sea slug by an evil octopus-witch and put in her garden of sad souls. (Who comes up with this stuff?)

The Fringe reference is the pancakes shaped like whales. Walter used to make those for Peter when he was a kid.

Also there is really no shame in a sponge not having a gut. It's just the way they are.

Blokus is a really fun strategy game in which you try to get all your pieces (which are different shapes) to fit on the board. It seems like a tricky game and I think it can get trickier if you play with someone strategic so I figured it'd be a game they enjoyed.


End file.
